


Please Don't Do This

by infernalandmortal



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 4 Spoilers, mentions of blood and torture (but v light)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernalandmortal/pseuds/infernalandmortal
Summary: I love her. Please don't do this.He would beg for her life a thousand times over. He hates that he has to.(Set during 04x08 because I believe we were robbed of a scene where Murphy and Emori reunite after Clarke injects herself with Luna's bone marrow.)





	

When the doors close and Murphy is alone, he lets the tears fall.

_Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._

When they first saw Becca’s house, they planned to remain even when the others went home. He wanted free reign of the kitchen. She wanted to learn how to reprogram the drones. He had laced his fingers through hers and kissed her scarred knuckles while she mapped out their future by tracing a finger over the scarred kitchen counter. He had heard her laugh through the halls and swore to never be without it again.

He loves her. And he regrets not telling her.

He slumps against the ladder, cool metal pressed against his warm forehead. He listens hard for any sound, any sign of her survival, and his stomach twists into knots at the silence.

He should have listened to her. He should have taken her fear as a warning. He shouldn't have been comfortable in his complacency. Guilt eats a hole in his stomach.

He thinks of his mother, the dropship, Jaha’s merry band of the delusional, every other home he’d ever had that ended in betrayal and pain. He hates himself for hoping this would be different.

There’s still no sound from beyond the doors. He wonders if Emori is awake yet. He wonders if she’ll be awake when she dies in agony like not-Bayliss and banishes the thought. His stomach rolls anyway. He’s suddenly seeing Emori’s face splattered in black blood, hearing her long low cry of agony. He strains against his bonds in earnest, feeling the pain rip through his wrists, his arms.

_I don’t want to die alone._

The double doors open after several long minutes. Roan strides to him without a word and cuts him free with a long knife produced from his sleeve.

“What did you do to her?” He asks, voice raw and loud in the quiet room. Roan says nothing.

Murphy follows him into the lab. Luna is out cold on the table, face impassive in sleep. Abby and Jackson exchange tense looks and Clarke stands above Emori with her sleeve rolled up and an empty syringe in her hand.

Emori looks so small. Her fingers twitch, a sure sign she’s waking up. Her left hand is uncovered. His eyes linger on it for a moment, remembering how it felt against his chest, bumping against his. It’s what makes her beautiful. It’s why she’s on that table.

“What, you invited me to watch?” His tone is pure malice. He looks at them, at their sad eyes unable to meet his, and hates all of them. It burns his heart and stomach and all he wants to do is shoot Miller in the head and Clarke in the heart.

_Survive. Please._

He shakes her fearful voice from his head. He wants to remember her mischievous and scheming and unapologetic in her moral ambiguity.  He doesn’t want to remember her tears and terror even though that’s all he sees.

“Well? Get it over with.”

“Clarke did it.” Raven’s voice was strangely soft. Murphy’s eyes flick to the syringe in her hand. “She took the marrow. Not Emori.”

Murphy looks at Clarke for confirmation. Her face is impassive. He says nothing, betrays nothing on his face. Near him, Abby wears the face of a stricken mother. Murphy feels no pity.

Abby and Jackson move to speak with Roan and Raven. Clarke follows her mother without another glance his way. Murphy looks down, touching his raw and bloody wrist with a wince, and notices that his hands are shaking.

_I love her. Please don't do this._

He would beg for her life a thousand times over. He hates that he has to.

“John?”

Her voice is small and shaky as she sits up, looking at him with dark, endless, helpless eyes. “John.”

She runs to him and he catches her in his arms, crushing her to him. Someone removed her customary layers of clothing. Without them, she feels smaller in his arms. He can feel her trembling.

“You're okay,” he breathes, pressing kisses to her temple, the top of her head. “You're okay. You're okay.”

She looks up at him with red-rimmed, weary eyes. “You didn't go along with it. I told you to go along with it.”

He shakes his head, not daring to let her go. “I couldn't.”  _I don’t want to live without you,_ he wants to say. She blinks at him, understanding spreading through her eyes.

“I'm sorry for not believing you. For not leaving when we had a chance.”

Her lips twitch slightly. “As long as you admit I was right,” she teases softly, a sliver of humor creeping into her voice. It's not much but it's enough to give Murphy hope.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He's never said it to her, though he knows she knows it, but now is not the time.

He wonders if it will ever be the time.

An argument is breaking out between the others. Abby isn’t willing to give her daughter up for slaughter, apparently. Surprise, surprise.

Murphy turns to watch, keeping Emori close. The cut near her eye is crusted with blood. He makes a mental note to clean it off later.

They will have a later. He's not giving that up without a fight.


End file.
